


A Curious Conchords Contest

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Flight of the Conchords (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-08
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Wysiwygot</p><p>Late one night, Jemaine and Bret debate who would be a better lover. Rated R for allusion to masturbation and oral sex. Slightly slashy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Curious Conchords Contest

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, iplayedthem on LJ, who encouraged me to write this story after not liking my first attempt. I kid, I kid. Mostly, thanks to her for humoring me.
> 
> Written for pepperlandgirl

 

 

Like most bad conversations, this one started when it was too hot to sleep. The Conchords' apartment smelled particularly like Chinatown in the wee hours, for some reason -- probably because someone was hosing out the fish market across the street.

"Bret?"

"Yes?"

"Are you awake?"

Bret turned his face to the bed opposite his, and was only barely able to make out Jemaine's shape in the low light. It was too dark for Jemaine to see Bret's annoyed expression. "Yeah, obviously, as we're having a conversation."

"Well, yes," Jemaine admitted. "Although you could be speaking in your sleep. You do that sometimes."

"Do I? What do I talk about?"

"The news, mostly. Sometimes you tell me about what's going on in the world. Sometimes there are commercials."

"Are you sure you aren't hearing the radio downstairs? I don't think I talk in my sleep."

"You do, but you're changing the subject."

"What's the subject?"

Jemaine sighed heavily, as though the answer were obvious. "The subject is: who is a better boyfriend?"

Not that again. "Haven't we already discussed this? The whole Sally affair?"

"Well, sort of. But that was who was a better boyfriend to _Sally_. I mean, in general, who is a better boyfriend? You, or I?"

"Right."

"I'm a better lover, but you're a far better cook." Jemaine's voice was resolute, as he'd already made up his mind.

"How do you know that you're a better lover?" Bret attempted to conceal his conceit. "We haven't slept with any of the same women."

"What about Sally?"

"You didn't sleep with her," Bret pointed out.

"I did. On the train. Just for a moment, and then she elbowed me and I helped her with her groceries."

"Yes, but I meant: 'slept' with her. As in, made love. Did the deed."

"Oh-ho-ho, we did the deed, Bret. Indeed we did. We did the deedily-do." Jemaine said, shifting in his bed until he was propped up on one elbow, staring back across the short span between their beds.

"No, you didn't," Bret replied. "You would have told me all about it, had you actually done it."

"That's true," he sighed. "I would have. As would have you, had you done the nasty with Sally."

"No, I wouldn't have. In fact, we did the nasty, all night long, back when we were still in love, and I didn't tell you about it until just now. And I'm only telling you now to prove a point: that you couldn't possibly have learned that you were the better lover from Sally. She couldn't have told you that."

"She implied it."

"How so?"

"During a movie. Sally said something like, 'I'll bet you're a better lover than Bret, because you are so sensual.'"

"All right. So, then, Sally thinks you're a better lover, but that doesn't mean you're a better boyfriend."

"I'm a better kisser," Jemaine insisted, flopping back onto his pillow in defeat. "My lips are more pillowy and kissable."

"You heard that from Mel," Bret countered. "Although it is true that you have fuller lips."

"But you have a better bum," Jemain admitted, throwing Bret a bit of a bone.

"Thank you. I appreciate that very much," Bret smiled.

"It's very pert, for being on a small person such as yourself," Jemain added. "Your jeans hang quite well off it, as opposed to mine, which sort of sag."

"Yes, you have a bit of a saggy arse," Bret nodded, tucking his hands behind his head thoughtfully. "But you're much stronger than I am, and your stamina is greater."

"My stamina is very great, that's true."

Both of them stayed quiet for a bit, considering how stamina might fit into the whole boyfriend gig.

Jemaine broke the silence by saying, "I think you've beat me in the hands department. Your hands are really attractive. Small as they are."

"Are they?" Bret mused, having never really put much thought into his hands. "I'm not sure how that would affect my boyfriend rating."

"It might mean more if you were dating a man. I've heard that men with small hands are valued highly in certain circles. Certain homosexual circles."

Bret's eyes opened back up in the dark and darted over toward Jemain's bed. If there was a wig involved, or even present, this conversation would be over. "You think I'd make a better homosexual?"

Jemain had to consider this for a moment. On one hand, so to speak, yes, Bret would make a very good homosexual. On the other hand, would he make a better homosexual than _Jemaine_ would? Meaning that Jemaine might not only be an inferior Sally boyfriend, for never having made it to second base, but also was an inferior gay. "My lips are pillowy. We've already discussed this. A homosexual man must have good lips and your lips are sort of thin."

"My lips are sort of thin, yeah, but you're more of a bear than I am."

"My body hair shouldn't affect my homosexual standing, I don't think. It's not part of the sex act. Uh... Oh. You look better in a wig."

Bret flinched. There it was. "I knew you'd bring that up. Is this about that time on tour that you were singing about? Because I have questions about that--"

"Forget it, Bret. It's in the past. And it was fictional. Just made up for the song," Jemaine soothed. "I think, really, that perhaps my lips are valued for oral sex. I'm much better at pleasing a woman."

Bret's eyes rolled. "Why would a woman need your lips in oral sex? It's for kissing that a woman would want you to have puffy lips. Fuller lips would be better for oral on a man, I'm guessing."

Jemaine perked up a bit, the clues coming together. He'd never really considered why a man would value his mouth in a way that a woman would not. "All right, well, then I'd give better blowjobs."

"Yes, you would," Bret conceded. "Although you would have no idea what you're doing, technically speaking. So your lips might be superfluous."

"Yes," Jemaine replied. "That's a good point. I wouldn't know what I was doing. Which is why your bum's superiority makes you the forerunner in the who is a better homosexual contest."

"Is it a contest?" Bret asked abruptly. "I wasn't aware this was a competition." Bret wasn't sure if he wanted to win, if it were.

"It's not."

"Happy to hear it."

Jemaine didn't reply, and Bret himself imagined that Jemaine was finally done with this tangent and ready to fall asleep. It wasn't until Bret heard rustling that he paid attention to his roommate. He fully expected to hear Jemaine get up to take a piss or get a drink of water, but when Jemaine never got out of his bed and never got to his feet, Bret became suspicious. It sounded like blankets rustling.

"Jemaine," he called, keeping his voice low in case Jemaine was in the middle of a dream.

"What," came the reply, Jemaine's voice as low, if not lower than Bret's.

More rustling, and it was then that Bret realized that Jemaine's breath had hastened and grown thicker with arousal. He was so horrified that Bret didn't dare call his name again. He wondered if it was too late to pretend that no, he really did talk in his sleep, and by gum, he was sleeping right now, which is why he called Jemaine's name. And no, no, he didn't hear a thing and he wouldn't intrude on Jemaine's privacy.

Bret held his breath until he felt lightheaded, trying to process the event. The rustling quickened, stalled, came back, stalled, became more rhythmic, became sort of frantic, and then stalled.

" _What?_ " Jemain repeated, pausing to pant a bit and give his fist a rest. He stared over at Bret's side of the room, just able to detect the streetlights reflecting in Bret's open eyes, which were focused on him.

"What are you DOING?" Bret cried, horrified. His voice creaked a little, from the panic.

Jemaine's voice came back more sure and steady. He was ready to get back at it. "Trying to figure out who gives a better handjob."

 


End file.
